


Hindsight

by Malcontent_Ash



Category: DCU, DCU (Animated), DCU (Comics)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-14
Updated: 2014-04-14
Packaged: 2018-01-19 08:50:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,130
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1463167
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Malcontent_Ash/pseuds/Malcontent_Ash
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Booster Gold is given another chance to see Blue Beetle five years after his death.  Maybe this time he can do things right?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hindsight

      Booster felt before he heard the pod pop into existence in the middle of the cramped living space of his Metropolis apartment. Like all matters which upset the natural order of spacetime, this appearance caused his ears to pressurize and a faint ache to start just above his right brow. Which parts of this were caused by the paranatural event and which were merely psychosomatic is still up for debate.

     "Booster." The orb glimmered in his view with a rainbow cast like oil reflecting light. The ache throbbed in response.

     "Now, really? C'mon, at least lemmie eat my pizza. I've waited a full fourteen minutes for this!" The plate sat hotly in his hands as he eyed the recliner he'd hoped to sit on while he watched TV and ate in peace. Currently, a giant spherical interspace transportation device would be blocking his view if Rip Hunter wasn't also standing in the way of his recliner (in all of his ridiculously unfashionable glory).

     “No, Booster. There’s a crack in the timestream. Left alone, it could destroy all time. Your pizza can wait.” Booster groaned heavily, dropping the plate in a huff on his end table before heading off the grab his costume and equipment. _Easy for you to say. Freaking time masters…_

     Once settled in the uncomfortably cramped orb, Hunter carefully hurled them through time and space to the apparent point of distress. The physical hurling left Booster with a not-small urge for literal hurling, but after several jaunts through reality he was starting to get the hang of not losing his lunch every time they jumped. Not that it was a particular issue, considering that his lunch was sitting five years from now on a rickety Ikea end table in Metropolis.

     _On January 3rd approximately five years ago, a circuitry device was stolen from a high-tech lab in a suburb thirty miles outside the outer edge of Metropolis. This particular item would play a crucial role in an upcoming event which would tear the fabric of time and space. Booster needed to catch the thief before the circuits could reach a buyer._

     The plan seemed simple enough to Booster. Aside from the time travel bit, it was the standard superhero ‘here is bad guy, stop bad guy’ bit. Rip Hunter, however, figured that this event warranted a rather lengthy explanation to which all questions were answered with a haughty look and a warning about too much knowledge of alternate realities. It wasn’t even that Booster had particularly cared, he was just too bored to stay quiet.

     By the time he stepped out of the interspace travel vehicle, three-hundred and fifty feet above the roof, his mind was fogged with all of the important vagueness time masters liked to assure he felt. While he cursed time and space for being so ridiculously frustrating, he caught out of the corner of his eye a dark figure slipping across the roof. He descended quickly, following the thief through an unlocked window.

     Inside, he hovered over a steel grated balcony which overlooked the laboratory. The figure, now a good ten feet in front of him, turned. Booster found himself facing the business end of an airblast pistol held by a rather alarmed man in a blue spandex suit. Both men froze.

     “Ted? God, Ted.” In his mind the infinite possibilities for multi-universal destruction paled before the image of the friend he’d lost. “I… I don’t have much time. Jesus,” he swore, using the terminology he’d learned in the twenty-first century “I’ve missed you so much.” Booster found himself rooted in place as Ted lowered the non-lethal pistol into its holster and approached.

     “Booster?” he asked, voice only slightly more incredulous than it normally was when dealing with the blonde. “What are you doing here?” His tone was only slightly more than a whisper.

     “I came here from the future. Rip sent me here to chase down some stolen circuits.” Ted nodded fractionally.

     “The future again? Are the circuits really that important?” “Rip sent me here, so I guess so. He said it’s important to my future. Ted…” He savored the taste of his name.

     “I know I can’t ask you about the future or anything, but the circuits aren’t even—“

     “—It doesn’t matter,” he scanned the room quickly before scratching his neck. “Is there any way we can talk? Like, without the masks?” Ted nodded before he spoke.

     “Uh, yeah. Sure, I guess.” Ted pulled off his mask as Booster removed his visor. His face was exactly how Booster remembered him. Brilliant blue eyes studied him, lips quirked in an uncertain smirk. “What’s up?” Ted tried to remain casual as Booster moved close to study him, drawn in by the sweet smile of the now deceased. He’d missed so many chances. There were so many nights that he thought his chest would burst with all the things he’d wanted to say.

     “I—uh…” Ted took an unsteady step backward, one of his boots catching on a wire which had been laid across the metal lattice of the floor. Before he could catch his balance, Booster had already grabbed his wrist. He gripped the slender wrist tightly, afraid to drown in the memories and regrets he’d finally started to wade through.

     “I’m really sorry, Ted. For everything.” Preparing to add another regret to his list, he turned away, close enough to feel Ted’s startled breath against his cheek.

     “W-Wait,” Ted interrupted, using a gloved hand to turn Booster back to face him. Before the fifth level intellect could overthink it, he leaned up, pressing their lips together. Pink lips were warm and smooth and hard against his and he pulled back quickly, floundering.

     “Oh, shit. Oh, I’m sorry. Sorry! I thought—mmph!” Larger hands had pulled their bodies and lips together. With their mouths interlocked he could both hear and feel the sob which tore its way out of Booster’s throat. For the first time since Ted had met the loudmouth hero, tears were filling his eyes and overflowing in fat rivulets. Ted could taste salt as he hummed soothingly, pressing for another chaste kiss.

     “I can’t,” he choked, shaking in Ted’s arms. “I _shouldn’t_ ,” he corrected, deepening the kiss for a moment before pulling back. Ted held him firmly as he tried to lean away.

     “It won’t matter, Michael. The you from my time, he doesn’t feel this way.” Ted let his head lower to Booster’s shoulder, eyes stinging from his feelings of rejection and the image of Booster crying before him.

     “And you?” Booster knew the answer now. Maybe part of him had known it from the beginning. Maybe it had taken all of this for his mind to finally catch up with what Ted was thinking all along.

     “I always have.”

**Author's Note:**

> So, in case I didn't make it clear enough:
> 
> My intention was that Rip Hunter (SPOILER ALERT, NOT REALLY: Booster's son), sent Michael back in time to address his unresolved feelings for Ted to avoid something catastrophic which would have happened later. I kinda hinted at it a little bit, but I didn't want to force a whole giant story if it didn't need to be one, and I wanted it to keep the mysterious 'time masters are shady as fuck' feel. 
> 
> This story was taken my second 500 page notebook of story starts that I haven't quite put the finishing touches. Seeing as the notebooks are my works from about five years ago to now, the style and focus of the stories vary a lot. I'm going to try to finish all of the shorter stories I can since I'm in such a writing mood. I seem to have broken my year and a half funk of not being able to finish a story because of crippling doubt. CRIPPLING DOUBT.


End file.
